


a home and a heart

by sannlykke



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Humor, M/M, Youkai, knbss2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 19:46:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13130808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sannlykke/pseuds/sannlykke
Summary: On one fine afternoon, a stranger breaks into Mayuzumi Chihiro's house and rearranges his light novels, for fun.





	a home and a heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [izumidos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izumidos/gifts).



> merry christmas @seijuros! i hope you like this <3

The first thing that alerts Mayuzumi to the anomaly is a misplaced book.

If there’s anything he diligently keeps organized, it’s his books. Shelves upon shelves of rare and treasured light novels packed neatly into every nook and cranny. Despite the sometimes-mess that would inevitably happen once exam time or deadlines rolled around, Mayuzumi likes to think he keeps things relatively tidy.

But: the book. Mayuzumi had not touched it since he finished his fourth reread of the series approximately two months ago. So why the fuck is it where the fifth volume of _Kidnapped by a Time-Traveling Samurai Waifu!!_ should be?

Carefully he slides his bag onto the floor, listening for any strange sounds coming from outside. Whoever had intruded into his home had clearly came with the intention of disturbing his treasures. Why else would they have left the rest of the place untouched? Unless he’d missed something, of course, but—

The electric kettle beeps.

“…?”

Had he somehow forgotten to turn it off?

Mayuzumi frowns, quickly ducking out of his room. There, in the kitchen, he could clearly see thin trails of steam.

And someone else there. The redheaded young man standing over the kettle doesn’t even look at him, doesn’t even seem to notice that _he’s in someone else’s apartment, making tea_. Mayuzumi blinks once, slowly. He’s never caught a burglar in action before, or really heard of one so bold as to leisurely make himself at home with people watching.

“You’re in my house.”

“Oh?”

The man looks up, his demeanor immediately quelling any retort that had come to Mayuzumi’s lips.

“I think I’d like to stay.”

— _Fuck_ , thinks Mayuzumi, realization dawning. _Just fucking great._

 

 

“…Why.”

“You do realize,” the spirit says, sitting daintily upon the windowsill as he sips his tea, “You have no say in this matter. Mayuzumi Chihiro, right?”

“…”

“My name is Akashi.”

“……….”

“It’s rude to ignore someone when they’re speaking to you.”

“Shut up,” Mayuzumi manages, looking down at his feet. Had he offended some higher power lately? The last time he’d willingly gone to a shrine had been for getting into university—three years ago. Maybe this is the universe’s way of getting back at him for having no presence. Or perhaps a rip in the fabric of time and space had sent him into a world of youkai.

He rubs his eyes. Akashi is already pouring himself a second cup of tea.

…Alright then. “Why are you here. Why can I see you. Why.”

Akashi puts down his tea. “I will assume you know what a _nurarihyon_ is.”

Mayuzumi frowns. “Is that what you are? Thought they aren’t supposed to be as rude as you.”

He lets out a small yelp as he feels his knees buckle underneath him and his head hit the desk.

“I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” Akashi says pleasantly.

 

 

_how to get rid of youkai_

_nurarihyon feeding habits_

_exorcist fee tokyo_

_cheap exorcist shrine taito-ku_

_diy ofuda tutorial_

 

“Chihiro.”

Mayuzumi slams the laptop shut, hissing as he pulls a throbbing finger away. “Don’t fucking sneak up on me like that!”

Akashi gives him a Look, but continues talking as he thumbs through Mayuzumi’s shelves. He hasn’t randomly appeared hovering over Mayuzumi’s shoulder like the last two times; there’s enough space in here for the both of them, but Mayuzumi still scoots away out of instinct.

It was only earlier this year that he’d moved into his grandparents’ dilapidated old house after they moved back with his parents just to save money on rent, but now it’s clear he should’ve just gotten an apartment closer to the university. At least whatever roommates he’d have gotten would’ve been able to be reasoned with.

“Is this the only kind of thing you read?” Akashi flips through the pages of a volume, and it’s all Mayuzumi can do not to snatch the book out of his hands. He’s not sure that nurarihyon do much of anything other than invade peoples’ houses and cause psychological distress, but as much as Akashi is annoying Mayuzumi doesn’t want to end up being cursed. Or worse. “They’re not very…”

“I didn’t know you read,” Mayuzumi says flatly. “Is that what you do when you aren’t depleting my tea inventory.”

“You should get new tea, by the way,” Akashi replies, looking back at him with what Mayuzumi could only interpret as regal contempt. “I cannot believe a human could drink that for so long without perishing from the bland taste.”

Mayuzumi stares at the window. “Are you going to pay me for it.”

Akashi is silent.

“Fucking moocher,” Mayuzumi grumbles as he hears his book thud to the ground.

 

 

“Exorcist,” Mayuzumi says.

The woman at the desk blinks quickly. “What?”

“I need,” Mayuzumi says in a low voice, leaning in towards the window. Never mind the curious looks of the tourist couple behind him waiting for tickets. “An exorcist. Look, here’s my address. I don’t care how much it is—”

“I’m sorry,” the woman says, pushing the piece of paper back. “That is by appointment only, so if you could—“

Mayuzumi feels a tug on his sleeve, and then he is on the ground. A smooth voice above him explains that _oh dear, my friend here seems to have confused the faulty electric wire in his house for spiritual activity, will you be kind enough as to forgive his intrusion_ —

“There are,” Mayuzumi says as he crumples the paper in his fist, “hundreds. No, _thousands_ of old, shitty buildings in this city. In the countryside even. Why.”

“I don’t suppose the original inhabitants ever saw me, rather.”

Mayuzumi exhales as they reach a crosswalk. Akashi looks just like any normal person standing out here in the sunlight, in a sweater and jeans instead of his weird bygone-era getup. It’s almost surreal—but a closer look into his eyes would tell a different story. “Are you saying I should blame my grandparents for not telling me.”

“Blame? Oh no.” Akashi grabs his arm, pulling him back as a car speeds past the red light. Mayuzumi stumbles, staring at him as he pulls his arm away. “It has been getting boring without anyone listening. Perhaps you can say I am even thankful.”

“Right,” Mayuzumi mutters. He doesn’t say anything the rest of the way, the slight throb of his arm from Akashi’s grip keeping him occupied until he’s standing in front of the door again.

By that time, of course, Akashi has already disappeared.

 

 

The thing is, Mayuzumi realizes, he’s gotten used to Akashi’s presence quickly. A little _too_ quickly for anyone to be getting used to the very existence of a fucking youkai moocher, but.

Most of the time it’s like there isn’t even anyone there. It’s strange enough of a sensation for someone who has been treated like that his entire life, but Mayuzumi would come home from classes, maybe catch up on forum bullshit as he waits for his instant ramen to heat up, and then Akashi would be there like someone’s grandma chiding him for his diet.

The other half of the time he’s alone.

Sometimes Mayuzumi thinks he’d dreamt it all up. Maybe his organizational memory isn’t as infallible as he thinks it is. But the thought never takes root long enough before Akashi reappears again, taking over his living quarters like nobody’s business. Mayuzumi doesn’t know where he goes to in that time, doesn’t think about asking. In some way it’s probably better that he doesn’t know.

—It’s not so bad if they keep to each other. None of the ofuda Mayuzumi had made seemed to have worked, anyhow.

“What’s that,” Mayuzumi asks, finally deigning to inspect what Akashi is doing to his kitchen counter. Some kind of hot stew simmers in the pot, looking quite out of place—Mayuzumi doesn’t think he’s made any real food on the stove in years. Still, it’s smelling too good for him to ignore. “Tofu soup?”

“You should eat something more nutritious.”

Mayuzumi’s lips twitch. “You’re making this for…me?”

He could almost hear the contemptuous sigh in Akashi’s voice as the youkai continues stirring the pot. “There are two of us here. I am not going to subsist off instant garbage.”

The soup almost burns Mayuzumi’s lips as he tastes it, warily at first; there are many stupid things he could be doing at any given time, but eating something a youkai made probably tops the list. He waits a few seconds, in case he were to turn into a toad or grow another arm.

Akashi delicately bites off a piece of tofu. Nothing else happens except the quiet steaming of the kettle from behind.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“This is…” Mayuzumi stabs a meatball with his chopsticks. “Good.”

He swears he’s seeing Akashi’s smirk grow ten times bigger. _Shit_. Maybe there _is_ something in there after all.

 

 

“A…spirit.”

“Okay,” Mayuzumi grumbles, shoving the books into his backpack. “You don’t believe me. It doesn’t matter.”

“No,” Mibuchi says, shaking his head. “I do believe you. But…it must want something, no? Otherwise it wouldn’t still be around if you keep ignoring it.”

Mayuzumi does not tell him he’s been struggling with _that_ part of the equation lately. “Want something? He wants to stay in my house. I can’t exactly make him scram. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“Hmm.” Mibuchi taps his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “Something other than that. Nurarihyon will stay in and move from houses as they please, so there must be something from _you_ specifically he wants…oh. Chi-chan, what if—“

Mayuzumi holds up a hand. “I’m going to class.”

Mibuchi pouts. “Well, I’ll text you later. I’m sure you’ll be fine, Chi-chan—but don’t make him wait too long! You don’t want to anger a spirit, you know.”

 

 

_Don’t make him wait too long!_

Mayuzumi rolls his eyes internally as he continues falling asleep in class. It’s ridiculous—making Akashi wait for what? He has no idea what the nurarihyon even wants from him, if not to steal his house. He’s sure not staying for Mayuzumi’s extensive light novel collection, or his lack of presence, or the not-conversations they have sometimes in the living room…

He shakes his head.

Come to think of it, there’s certainly nothing of value Mayuzumi owns that a spirit _would_ want. Maybe Akashi just wants to eat him, but then again it doesn’t seem that nurarihyon eat people.

—He’s just avoiding the inevitable by now, but there’s something about Akashi that makes Mayuzumi swallow the questions right back in when their eyes meet.

_Why do these things happen to me?_

 

 

The house is dark when Mayuzumi enters, after a long, exhausting night at the library. It’s not quite exam season yet, but the fact remains that Mayuzumi had had the bad luck to be assigned to a grueling group project. What the fuck kind of professor would do this to him at this point in the semester—

He turns on the light and sees Akashi standing right in front of him.

“Agh!”

“Chihiro.”

“Don’t! Don’t fucking—you scared the _shit_ out of me—” He scrambles to pick up all the books he’s dropped, cursing all the while. Then Mayuzumi looks up, and sees Akashi has his sleeve over his face, his entire body shaking. “Are y—was that on _purpose_?”

“I was merely welcoming you home,” Akashi says, straightening up now. One would almost think he’s serious given the tone, but Mayuzumi at this point has had enough. “I also wanted to ask—“

“I’m going to sleep,” Mayuzumi snaps, throwing his books on the sofa. “Leave it. Ask tomorrow.”

He slams his bedroom door shut without looking back.

 

 

In retrospect, that was probably a shitty thing to do.

Mayuzumi stirs his Ovaltine as he rubs his toes under the kotatsu, the warmth not nearly enough to keep his thoughts away from Akashi.

It’s been an entire two weeks since he’s seen Akashi.

It would be cause for celebration if Mayuzumi wasn’t somehow having a very unfamiliar feeling taking root inside him all the while. Something uncomfortable, not unlike a splinter under his nail. The quietness seems to have magnified tenfold during this time, and the winter clouds outside dulling the sun do nothing to help.

His phone buzzes on the table next to a pile of mandarins.

It’s Mibuchi. _Still got a youkai problem? I found an exorcist online who could help._

Mayuzumi stares at the screen.

 _No_ , he taps away. _Not anymore._

His finger hovers above the send button for a few second before he presses. Well, it’s not untrue. For now, at least, there is no ‘youkai problem’ to be had around the house.

(He tries to ignore the tiny part of him that wishes this weren’t true.)

 

 

Mayuzumi knows from past experience just how terrifying the shrine experience on New Year’s Eve would be like, and so opts for going a few days early instead.

Christmas has most people staying in or out in restaurants, not at the shrine. The local one in his neighborhood—not the big, touristy one next to the university that he’d been so unceremoniously dragged away from—is small, its grounds deserted as he enters beneath the torii.

There are a few lights still on, illuminating the creaky wooden staircase as he steps up to the donation box. His hands feel half-frozen as he feels the weight of the rope beneath his fingers, and he looks up at the string of ofuda that almost touch his hair.

“Hey,” Mayuzumi begins. “Look, I know I don’t come here a lot.”

“You’ve probably heard all of this shit before, but…”

(Is this just bringing more bad luck on his head?)

“I overreacted. That was stupid.”

He sighs. As if the gods were apt to hear what he has to say anyhow; this is all a joke. Even if Akashi's existence hadn’t been a delusion he’d had for months, it’s not like anyone he’d pray to would magically give a shit.

“Anyway, I guess I’m just here to feel better about myself. Not sure if _that_ worked, but—”

“I hope that Bocchan is doing okay, or something.”

“I’m touched, Mayuzumi-san.”

“?!”

Mayuzumi spins around, and there under the torii is Akashi in his flowing robes. The streets behind him are deserted, but it’s not as if Mayuzumi would be looking for anyone else anyway.

“…Akashi?”

“It was very rude, what you did.”

“…Yeah, I figured.”

“But I shouldn't have scared you, too.”

A thousand sarcastic retorts rise to the tip of Mayuzumi’s tongue, but they quickly fade as he walks down the stairs, brows furrowed. Akashi looks different somehow—not bad different, but only for a moment. Soon he is standing in front of Akashi, whose feet seem firmly planted into the ground—Mayuzumi realizes this as soon as he steps out, feeling an invisible weight lift off his shoulders. The moonlight paints his red hair a soft pink; in the light he seems younger, though his eyes tell a different story.

“You can’t go inside.”

Akashi inclines his head. “Only if I really want to. Today, not so much.”

Mayuzumi stuffs his hands into his coat, looking away when he realizes they are standing closer to each other than ever before. The lights of the neighborhood blink back at him, red and blue and gold and green. “So…”

The chilly night air comes out in puffs of white as Akashi speaks. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go home.”

 _Home_. Mayuzumi closes his eyes, taking a hand out of his pocket. The cold bites into his skin; it would snow soon, probably. But all he could think about is what Mibuchi had said—

“Fine.”

He still does not say anything as they walk back past the shrine and up the hill, back to the house with the broken TV and too many light novels. But the warmth of their joined hands already says it all.


End file.
